


The Legend of Zelda: The End of the Wild

by Rose7333



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Lots of swearing. It's Revali's fault., Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Pining, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose7333/pseuds/Rose7333
Summary: Zelda, Urbosa, Daruk, Revali: all co-presidents of Zelda’s new club founded on school spirit and giving back to the students. It’s brushed off that they share the names of the Champions from the Era of the Wild, even when Mipha and Link join. But the new vice-principal seems to be a bit too suspicious for it to all be a giant coincidence.[First Draft]Tags, characters, etc. will be added as the fic progresses. Current rating may also change. And maybe the summary. And maybe the title.
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Zelink - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. The Track Meet

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a fic on here. I hope I finish it. I can't tell you how many times I have created a draft on here (that eventually gets deleted) that has this same disclaimer.
> 
> I'm super insecure about my writing because I haven't posted it in so long, much less consistently, much less pushing through a singular work without being like, "Hey! I just came up with another idea. I'm just going to totally NOT abandon this WIP and instead start something else to add to my collection of 400 million WIPs that I definitely intend on completing!" In fact, lemme tell you, I have FOURTEEN Legend of Zelda fanfics alone, plus at least a dozen other fanfics and original works are rotting in my Google Drive.
> 
> I really, really, really intend on writing this though. I'm a horrible, procrastinating perfectionist, so you'll probably be able to tell where I struggle (everything past chapter one), BUT... I'm trying.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my ranting, I hope you enjoy! If there are any trigger/content warnings or anything similar I will try to add them in the notes before a chapter. And I will also adjust the tags and rating as the fic goes on, if need be. :-)

With pillows, clothes, stuffed animals, and textbooks scattered across the room like a checkerboard, it left only one place to scavenge. The first tug on the blanket didn’t do much. After readjusting her grip and shoving aside the clutter weighing it down, she gave another pull. She rarely underestimated her strength, but in her frenzy she ended up ripping the blanket from the mattress and launching the hairbrush in her hand into the closet door. A loud bang erupted at its impact, inducing the door with a long shiver. She awaited a questioning voice from downstairs, but it never came, so she directed her attention back to the stripped bed. To her dismay, there was nothing there. She spun around to face the disaster zone she had created, squeezing her face in deep thought as she contemplated leaving the item behind.

A sudden light snuck through the bottom of her curtain. She trekked over the mess to the window, peeking out from the corner to ensure she wouldn’t be seen. It was exactly what she thought it was, causing her to frown and make the sudden, regrettable decision to abandon the scene.

In her mad dash to the front door, she found the missing object mockingly sitting in the foyer.

“How long do these track meet things go on for?”

“He said his last one went on for about three hours.”

“I’m gonna have to be writing an essay during it. Tell me when he passes by so I can see.”

“Well, there’s the Goron team and then the Hylian team right after, so you’ll have time at the end.”

“They separate those?”

“Duh. You don’t want Gorons running over people, do you?”

“Depends on who’s in the way.”

She rolled her eyes. “You _would_ say that.”

They both turned to the distant sound of an opening door. Under the porch light, a head of long, blonde hair bobbed around, twisting a key in the lock before hurrying in their direction. The back door of the car swung open and shut within moments as the blonde clambered into the backseat.

“Sorry! Sorry! I couldn’t find my phone,” she said, slipping the seatbelt over her. “Are we running late because of me?”

“Nope,” the driver assured. “Early bird here had me get to his house, like, half an hour earlier than we planned.”

“Urbosa, if you make another bird joke, I will have you arrested for hate speech.” The Rito crossed his arms. “At the very least, you won’t be co-president.”

“You’re going to have my house raided or something?” Urbosa smirked, receiving an especially gesticulated agreement in return. “Well, Revali, you can get out of my car and Zelda and I will just go to the meet ourselves.”

“All right! All right! Just drive, dickhead,” he squawked. She adjusted the rearview mirror and then sped down the driveway. His winged hand flew to grip his headrest for support. “I meant: drive _properly!_ ”

“Get a license before telling me that.”

He pointed a patronizing finger. “The critic doesn’t need to be a professional to critique.”

“Is that why you’re always a critic?”

Zelda wondered at what point Revali would just take the wheel and run them off the road. Surprisingly, it never happened.

She stared out the window at the sight of the unlit woods along the side of the street. She fixated on a tree and watched it slow down. Once the tree reached the border of the window, she picked the next one. The cycle helped drown out the incessant bickering in the seats ahead of her.

She lived in one of the nicer neighborhoods, gated with dozens of grand, multi-level homes, which most of her visitors insisted were mansions. It was at the end of a lengthy street off of the main road, making it a good distance away from the sounds and lights, yet still having a conveniently direct connection to it. Her house was never difficult to find.

Finally, on a particularly wide turn that Urbosa made (and Revali screeched about), the woods ended, and they were on the new road lined with stores and lamps, dotted with intersections along the way. With the absence of her distraction, her eyes focused on her translucent reflection. Zelda wasn’t one to have a single hair out of place, and when it was, it would usually be fixed by Urbosa. Despite Urbosa’s... less than adequate driving, she was quite the parental figure: cautious and protective, always on her guard when it came to the people she cared about.

Zelda was brushing her eyebrow hairs up into place when she suddenly felt the dry feeling of her chapped lips pressing against one another. She lightly tapped her ring finger on the plateaued skin before interrupting the two up front. “Urbosa? Do you have any chapstick with you?”

The Gerudo made a quick glance to her bag on the console, gesturing to Revali to toss it in the back. He, without hesitation, grabbed the small, bookbag-like purse and handed it to Zelda. “Front pocket, I think,” Urbosa said. “Might be gloss in there too, if you want.”

Zelda chuckled in her head at the strange relationship of her friends as she unzipped the section. Sure enough, there was a chapstick in there. Three, actually, along with several glosses, lipsticks, and whatever other makeup Urbosa had on her person at all times. _Might be,_ Zelda repeated, _like Urbosa would be caught dead without hundreds in every bag she owned._

Revali huffed, “Why do you always share stuff like that? It’s gross.”

“Girl things,” Urbosa retorted, humoring Revali in his ignition of yet another argument. It seemed like that was the only way they knew how to verbally communicate, “And I know she has good hygiene. Do you not clean your beak after spouting shit all day?”

“Don’t you mean _‘vai’_ things?”

“Ah, ah! Hate speech, bitch-boy!” she exclaimed, turning into another neighborhood area.

“Oh, that is _not_ fucking hate speech.”

Suddenly, Urbosa slammed her foot on the gas, flying over a speed bump on the fortunately empty street.

Revali grabbed the handlebar over his head as his tail feathers left the safety of the seat below him. “ _Shit,_ Urbosa! What the fuck?”

She nearly threw her head back as she cackled.

They approached a three-story building, well lit despite the time of evening, signs plastered along the fence with words written too thin to read from that distance, but giant, properly filled in arrows stuck out with reds and blacks. Some students’ silhouettes stood on the sidewalk in front of the fence, waving flashlights through the air like cheerleader pom poms, welcoming passing cars as they directed them the same way the arrows did. As they drove further down the side of the lot, the excitement visibly decreased with each passing student. By the time they reached the gate, those who remained outside were maintaining chatter with others, staring at their dim phone screens, or simply just idling.

There were strands of yellow holiday lights intertwined with the chain link fence to spell out, “Welcome Loftwings!” The bright orange extension cable stuck out in the short grass. Once the car slowed down enough, Zelda could make out the Loftwing crest on many of the cardboard signs. They alternated between gold and blue: the gold of the original Loftwing crest and the blue of the sky that once held an ancient floating civilization. _According to legend, of course._ The blue stood out better in the sunset, but she preferred the crests with stark black outlines, they looked much more put together. 

She was very picky about her school pride. She always desired perfectionism from her fellow students and reluctant event decorators. In her head, the results meant all or nothing to her— vocally, however, she’d express it as “lacking” and was always happy to help with improvements. Often, she found herself bitterly disappointed in the end when the expected amount of effort didn’t turn up. Appreciative of participation, but disappointed nonetheless. Her impression as the building came into view almost met her standard, though. After all, the flashlights and holiday lights were her idea.

Even with the guest parking lot, the teacher parking lot, and the student parking lot, they were running out of space. Some cars were already parked along the fence outside, thankfully not covering any signs. 

As Urbosa pulled into an empty spot, Revali said, “You could’ve gotten a closer one up there.”

“Poor little baby can’t walk?”

“I was thinking to be more convenient and considerate of passengers.”

“You? Considerate?”

“Oh, suck my-”

Zelda hopped out of the car before Revali could finish his thought.

The track was a battleground between the two dueling high schools. It was one of the first track meets across the entirety of the country of Hyrule, the very first of the school year for their school. The competitors that night had barely gotten settled into their teams before training began just weeks prior.

Banners were splayed on the opposing bleachers, overwhelming amounts of blue and gold from the home school and red and black from the visitor clashed at the thin border between them.

Most of the students, especially those from the visiting team, were Gorons. Both schools had a large number of them, and there was no doubt that the sport was prominent among Gorons across the map.

She stepped around some huddled chatting groups and scanned the crowd around the track. The Gorons blended together in her vision as she tried to pick individuals out from the constantly shifting bodies. Hylians were typically shorter, so they were hidden out of the way, but it made the unbroken sea of Gorons more difficult to search.

Revali and Urbosa walked up from behind, following Zelda’s actions. Urbosa, the tallest of the bunch, finally pointed, despite it not helping much. “He’s over there,” she said, taking the lead. One Hylian, the track coach, served as a waypoint due to his height compared to the younger students. Sure enough, as they drew closer, Zelda and Revali spotted Urbosa’s find.

“Hey guys!” one of the more decorated Gorons called out.

The three of them approached him, Zelda taking notice of his track gear. She was trying to figure out how to design Goron uniforms. Their ancestors wore, quite literally, _less_ than acceptable outfits compared to their modern day wear. They still dressed much differently than a Hylian, or any other race for that matter, and on occasion they weren’t required to wear their equivalent of shirts, a poncho-like apparel. Track meets, for instance: when they were curled up into balls, rolling around a track, clothing (restrictive or loose) wasn't exactly helping them.

“Thanks for makin’ it! After the race, I’ll join you guys in the bleachers.” He turned his attention to Zelda, still studying him and his team. An even greater smile crossed his face. He patted her on the shoulder much more gently than he would for his fellow Gorons. “Hi Zelda! How’s the paperwork comin’ along?”

“I have to speak to the guidance counselor about it,” she explained, hesitant with her word-choice. “I think my father can get the rest sorted.”

“Sounds good! I’ve been hypin’ it up to the team, we’re tryin’ to get a few more Goron-friendly meal options added, y’know.”

“Is food the only reason you joined, Daruk?” Revali asked, only half-joking.

“Course not! I’m supportin’ Zelda and my brothers! Food just... happens to be a large part of our culture.”

“And by ‘food’ you mean the ground?”

“What do you eat?” Urbosa said, Revali’s head shooting to her direction instantly. “Worms?”

Before Revali could counter, he had his back slapped by Daruk amidst his laughter, lurching him forward and nearly knocking him over.

The coach’s whistle blew, signaling Daruk and the rest of the team to join up. He gave a final wave to his friends before sending them off to the bleachers. The three returned a goodbye and an added good luck, shuffling off to the assembly of students to grab a decent seat before the rest of the crowd got to them. Not too high, not too low, and not far off-center with the starting line; they got lucky as they squeezed into a space that was only room for one.

The spotlights were blinding on the track, blaring through the growing darkness as the sun disappeared over the horizon. The two Goron teams stood along the outside of the track, the coaches and other staff discussing the game around them. Some taunts slipped between the two teams, playful banter and nothing more. Their laughs were visible, hearty and genuine among their flexing and sly tossing of pebbles. Finally, the adults split, and everyone’s attention turned to them.

A woman with striking silver hair took center stage. She had a blue marking on her forehead, difficult to make out from the distance, but anyone who had seen her before knew it was the mark of the Sheikah. Her voice had a sweetness to it, but age could be plucked from its stems. “Good evening students!” she exclaimed into the microphone. “Who’s ready for the races to begin?” 

An uproar sounded in response. Some jumped to their feet, some waved their signs, some threw up their hands and sported their school colors.

“Tonight we have our home team, the Central Hyrule High Loftwings...” a cheer from the right bleachers, a boo from the left, “...and the visiting East Akkala High Lynels!” a cheer from the left bleachers, a boo from the right. “We’re starting out with our Goron teams tonight, Hylians afterward. Two teams of six, relay race first. Then, the selected racers will do the single-lap sprint. Everybody got that?” A reassuring cheer erupted once again, the Sheikah announcer raised a fist to the air. “Let’s go Loftwings and Lynels!” She turned to half of the racers surrounding her, removing the mic from their direction and instead opting for a riling shout, “Loftwings, make me proud!”

Cheering, howling, screaming: it all sounded like incoherent loudness. As three from each team joined at the starting line, the six other Gorons made the trek to the halfway point around the track. Words finally emerged from the masses. “Ak-ka-la! Ak-ka-la!” from the left. “Let’s go Loftwings!” from the right. It soon found a rhythm, and the competition had begun before the racers were even in position.

The Gorons at the starting line bombarded the referee with impatient eyes. He gave them a signal, and each of them curled into a boulder-like form. After a short pause for last minute checks, the referee began a countdown.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Go!” A whistle blew with it.

And without another second wasted, the racers were off. Dust was sent flying into the tense air, the rocky patterns of their backs remained as vague imprints in their lanes. The chants devolved back into shouting: the calling of the racers’ names and the urging of them forward.

The point of a relay race included speed, of course, but the most difficult for Gorons was the opposite of that: stopping.

Typically, Gorons were still good at such, even with high speeds, but there was always the slightest bit of lasting momentum when suddenly leaving their form, and that usually meant losing a lot of time trying to get off of the ground after a collision.

Unfortunately, one of the Loftwing donning Gorons fell victim to it, and hit their partner head on. It was good news for the Akkala team, however, and it could be heard from their taunting.

There was still hope, as one of the two surviving pairs included the best Goron racer at Central Hyrule High, and maybe in most of Hyrule itself.

Zelda and Urbosa were nothing less than the screaming crowd, chanting his name in unison as soon as he started moving. Even Revali, who was a much more composed cheerleader, was not one to shy away from his competitive nature. If the way to play his part for any scrap of success was to cheer from the sidelines, he was going to do it.

He won in the smoothest roll anyone had ever seen, and led to an even smoother stop. He had multiple seconds to spare on the other competitors, the second Loftwing teammate coming in after. While he stood proud at the finish line alone, he relished in the win, celebrating just as those in the bleachers did.

“ _Daruk! Daruk! Daruk!_ ”

He loved the sound of it.

And when his teammate did arrive, he congratulated him all the same, inviting him into his celebratory circle. They raised their fists to the sky as the Lynels finished, followed shortly after by the last remaining Loftwing. They all met each other with teasing and brotherly, Goron-brand pats on the back. After all, there was still hope for Akkala in the sprint.

But the students of Central Hyrule High School already knew who was going to win... for the second time.

The chosen four Gorons lined up once again at the start, curling up just as they had previously, with the addition of some stretching beforehand. Another countdown began shortly after. On go, they were off again, and the cheering ensued with it. They all began neck and neck, barely drifting forward and backward until falling back in line.

Daruk pushed past the repeated crunching of gravel in his ears to hear the distant, unmistakable roar of the crowd. It was hard to decipher the words, but as soon as he picked out his name amongst the shouting it was magnetised to him. It drew him further forward, more than he could muster on his own, until he was gaining a lead on the others. The cheering only grew louder, “ _Daruk! Daruk! Daruk!_ ” and he only rolled faster. The crumbling track beneath him became air, the wind slowing until it flowed with him, and the only thing he could hear was his name, knowing well that his friends were in that cluster. He had to win. Not for himself, but for his friends. He couldn’t let them down on a night like this.

A whistle broke his focus, and he hopped back to his feet with ease. He turned to the bleachers, seeing people look straight at him like the spotlights above, applauding, yelling, radiating the pride he took and wore like a badge. He spotted Zelda, Urbosa, and Revali in the crowd and gave them a direct wave.

He turned back to his team and his competitors, all blurring together in his vision as his brothers, and he congratulated them yet again. A medal found its way around his neck, gold and dotted with sparkling faux rubies. He held it up for all to see. _They_ were what helped him win, after all.

As soon as he was excused from the track, he made his way up to his most reliable cheerleaders. Once in their vicinity, he immediately received more congratulations.

“Thanks, you guys. I do really appreciate you comin’ out tonight, I know it’s a school night and these usually don’t fall in the middle of the week...”

“Oh it’s nothing, Daruk,” Zelda insisted. “If it were at five in the morning you know we’d still be here!”

“I wouldn’t,” he laughed heartily, “not that early!”

“Revali would probably be here at midnight waiting for you,” Urbosa teased, elbowing said Rito.

Revali rolled his eyes, but was interrupted by yet another harsh pat on the back, Daruk’s laughter carrying over the tons of voices surrounding them.

The silver-haired woman reappeared on the loudspeaker. “Who’s ready for the Hylian teams?”

The students erupted around the group, but they were too preoccupied with their conversation to pay attention. Daruk was in the middle of explaining a funny story of what had happened to his friend before the three of them had arrived.

The relay race carried out just as the Goron version had. Fortunately, no one bumped into each other. Unfortunately, however, Akkala had won. Daruk commented that it was because they weren’t paying attention, Revali suddenly remembering halfway through his sentence that he had an essay to write. The conversation faded out, and they were drawn back to the entertainment ahead of them. The Sheikah returned to the mic once more, announcing the final race for the night, the Hylian single-lap sprint.

Zelda propped her elbow on her knee, and her cheek on her fist. She had no particular interest in the Hylian races, being truly acquainted with few of them, but she found herself with nothing better to do. Supposing she should pay attention to give her support anyway, she watched the lanky runners make their way to their lanes. There seemed to be a straggler off to the sidelines. It was hard to make out what he was doing, but he only moved after receiving a nudge from the coach. Nervous, maybe? She couldn’t tell.

The Hylians were nowhere near as friendly as the Gorons. It was dead silence from each of them, even toward their teammates. She wouldn’t have been shocked if they were the same way during the relay. They most likely felt as though it was a competition between all of them. That cheap medal was the goal... _Show-offs. Revali would fit right in,_ she joked to herself.

The straggler was smoothing out his sweatshirt as the others stood, chins high and waiting. He stuck out like a sore thumb, not only because of his delay, but also his height and attire. He was barely at the shoulders of the boys around him. Not to mention the fact that he was covered head-to-toe: sweatshirt, long pants... It was like he was going for a walk in the park. _Was he sweating up a storm under all of that heavy fabric?_ Especially if he was nervous. It would be a miracle if he wasn’t. _At least his hair was up,_ the dirty blonde strands pulled back into a low ponytail.

“Who’s that one?” Zelda asked Urbosa, pointing to him in the middle of the lineup.

“No idea,” she replied blankly. “Looks like a midget freshman.”

Zelda turned to Daruk. “Do you know him?”

“The blonde one?” he questioned, following her gaze. “Not very well. Goron and Hylian teams don’t get to train together too often. I hear all the time from the coach that he’s really good, though.”

“Why do you care?” Urbosa rested her shoulder on Zelda’s as she leaned into the conversation.

“I don’t.” Zelda innocently shrugged. “He just seems very out of place.”

The two beside her nodded, and they each returned their partial attention to the track. Zelda curiously fiddled with her bottom lip. She was usually familiar with faces around the school, even the freshman class. It was strange. For some reason, she knew she had seen him somewhere, yet couldn’t place him in the slightest.

The lineup on the track got into their starting positions. After a countdown, the whistle blew and the runners bolted. Zelda quickly found that Daruk’s coach hadn’t been lying, that boy was _fast_. Those in second and third were near neck-and-neck, but the boy was in first and already had a decently large lead on the rest of them. If he had been just a little faster, Zelda may have betted he could’ve competed in a Goron race. Maybe not do as well (in fact, maybe get crushed), but he could’ve at least been somewhere in the top ten. And that was an impressive feat.

“He’s a speedy midget,” Urbosa said to her over the cheering crowd. Zelda agreed.

He was gaining still, even approaching the halfway point. _Perhaps he was a Goron in a previous life._ Speed was sort of their thing, after all. Track used to be specifically reserved for them, not just in school sports, either.

Zelda caught a glint of red in the corner of her eye and, for whatever reason, it turned her head. A Zora was bouncing up and down, not enough to knock off the child on her shoulders, but enough to be noticeable. They were both the same shade of red, Zelda guessed family. They seemed to be cheering on the unknown boy.

When she looked back, he had hardly slowed down. It was a little ridiculous how much endurance he had. She was almost relieved when his speed dwindled toward the end.

It was to no one’s surprise that he won, and was met with an oddly lackluster amount of cheering. Zelda wasn’t one to get too involved in sports not including her friends, but she still gave a gentle, underwhelming clap to satisfy her need to fill the void. Urbosa only nodded with an impressed pucker of her lips.

The boy had skidded to a graceful halt. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead and took a swig from a bottle of water. No panting, no sitting, just a hand on his hip like it had been nothing. Zelda was almost angry she was entranced by his apparently effortless jog. Suddenly, those same Zora siblings were in front of him. He received a side hug from the girl and a dainty high-five from the child.

Zelda caught herself smiling at this unknown “midget freshman,” and continued to try to figure out why she recognized him. If he supposedly wasn’t in her sophomore class, where had she seen him?

Just like that: the boy received a medal, competitors were applauded, and the track meet was over.

In the parking lot, Daruk was hounded by Goron comradery and his other friends. His younger brother (though they were all “brothers,” one happened to be Daruk’s housemate), Yunobo, was there to congratulate him as well. Revali was huddled over his phone, still trying to type out a decent essay. Urbosa was nitpicking his vocabulary, not necessarily helping him in any way. Zelda stood at the back of the group and awaited Daruk’s goodbyes to his fans.

She took a sweeping look at the rest of the parking lot. Families with their kids, buddy groups babbling around their cars, the track coach congratulating parts of his teams, nothing out of the ordinary. She turned further to her left, back toward the entrance of the school, and spotted the winning Hylian boy and the Zora siblings.

_Did he have no other friends?_

_No,_ that was ridiculous. They probably had already left or couldn’t make it, something like that.

“Stop staring at people, weirdo,” Urbosa teased.

Zelda smiled and gestured behind her to the trio. “I feel like I’ve seen him. The Zora looks familiar, too.”

“Still don’t know him. I think the Zora girl is Mipha, though. She’s on the girl’s sword fighting team- Oh! Wait, I think he might be on the guy’s team... maybe. I could be thinking of someone else.”

“Ah,” Zelda nodded again, “maybe I’ve seen him leaving one of your meetings. You said she was on your team? Is she a good leader? Do you think she might be...” she trailed off.

“I don’t know. She seemed kind of quiet. I’ll try to talk to her next time, see if she’s a good fit for the club.”

Zelda glanced back again. “He seems kind of alone. Should I go say congrats?”

Urbosa shrugged. “You’ve probably got time while Daruk’s doing this.”

Zelda didn’t have a problem speaking to people. She had never been a shy one. Even as a child, she’d loved to talk. Yet, for an unknown reason, she couldn’t get her feet off the ground, despite the agreement in her head to go say something.

She had missed her chance. The Zora walked with him to a car, they both hopped in, and they were gone. 

“I’ll say something if I see him again,” Zelda voiced aloud to no one in particular, though received an understanding from Urbosa. Was she assuring herself? _That was weird._

“See you later!” Daruk said, interrupting her thoughts. “Okay, we’re still goin’ to dinner, right guys?”

“That’s the plan,” Urbosa replied. She dangled the keys in her hand, letting the jingling speak for itself.

“Then let’s get out of here, I’m starvin’!” Daruk clasped his hands together in anticipation. The warm smell of charred rock was already hitting his nose, his mouth watering instantly.

The four of them climbed into the car, Daruk now joined with Zelda in the backseat. He crunched his head down to fit in the space, the seat below him already sunken under his weight. 

Revali continued tapping away at keys as they left the school lot. His brows once furrowed in concentration slowly became annoyance. Part way through the drive he stopped, pushed at the temple of his head to alleviate pain, and eventually gave up as the red fluorescent lights of the restaurant sign flooded the car.

“This teacher gives the most absurd assignments,” he grumbled as they all exited the vehicle.

“Do you need help?” Daruk offered.

“Goddesses no, I just need a break. All that obnoxious screaming gave me a headache.”

The girls shot each other a look, recalling Revali being a part of that screaming.

The restaurant was recovering from the dinner rush that evening, having some neglected tables still needing a cleaning. The only ones left were those chatting away with empty plates, some older groups having their late dinners, and those at the bar watching whatever sport or news was on the television. Old light fixtures hung from the ceiling, dim and the orange hue of a flame. Under them laid the flattened carpet that had been stained a murky color from years and years of continuous footsteps. The walls had no bare spots, either taken up by a window, a road sign, a television, some old and obscure celebrity, or references only their parents would understand. It wasn’t an establishment expecting groups of teenagers, making it perfect for isolating the four of them to enjoy themselves.

The hostess did a double take as they strode in. She hit a few buttons on the screen in front of her, then acknowledged them with a faded customer service voice. “Table for four?”

“Yes please,” Urbosa smiled.

From the bin behind her she collected a stack of menus and sets of silverware wrapped in napkins. In the same voice, the corners of her lips now struggling to push themselves up, she murmured, “Right this way.” She guided the group through the restaurant to a booth by the window.

They all took a seat, Revali and Urbosa on one side, Daruk and Zelda on the other, the boys tucked along the wall. The hostess passed out the menus and silverware.

“Your waiter will be with you in a minute,” she stated before departing.

Urbosa pointed at Revali’s menu. “Did you want the kids menu with the crayons and stuff or can you handle this?” He could only roll his eyes in return. She earned a giggle from Zelda, though, and that was enough for her.

“Daruk, I’ll buy your dinner. Get whatever you want,” Zelda said.

“Oh, no, no! It’s just a track meet, it’s nothin’ special, Zelda. You don’t have to do that for me... And you know the good rock-based meals are expensive, I couldn’t make you-”

“You’re not making me! I don’t mind at all. I buy Urbosa dinner when she wins a sword fighting tournament, and I buy Revali dinner when he wins an archery tournament.”

“It’s not her money she’s spending, after all,” Urbosa chimed in. Zelda shot her a look, trying to contain her laugh in the process.

“I get a monthly allowance! And I can go over if there’s an emergency,” she defended.

Daruk put a hand on her shoulder, “Alright, alright, you can pay. Thank you, Zelda, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome!” she beamed. “We should figure out what we’re going to order before we start the meeting.”

“Ugh,” Urbosa groaned, “don’t call it _that_. I’ll lose my appetite.”

“Okay, before we have a ‘short discussion’ about the club.”

Urbosa nodded, keeping her gaze fixated on the menu in her hands. Zelda turned her attention back to hers as well. There were so many, yet so few options. Did she want a sandwich? _Eh, too much bread._ No... No... No... She made her way down the list, nothing seeming appealing enough to her stomach in the moment. No... Definitely not any Goron specialties... No... _Would it be weird to just get a salad?_ More importantly, _would it be filling enough?_

She flipped the menu to the backside. Alcohol, regular drinks, sides, desserts, lunch specials... Nothing. She flipped the menu back in defeat. Her eyes scanned the same options again until her eyes finally caught a seafood option. _Caught in Lurelin,_ she read, _then it must be good._

She had taken a vacation there every summer since she could remember. Except for one summer, but she liked to forget that entire year ever happened. Every single time she had gone otherwise, the experience of eating fresh fish with the scent of the ocean in her nose and the sun at its lowest point on the horizon was absolute bliss. Drawing herself out of her memories, she noticed a waiter approaching the table.

He passed out some disposable coasters with the restaurant’s logo on it as he greeted them. Zelda took the thin piece of cardboard and twiddled it between her fingers, not paying mind to its texture or the shape of it, just enjoying the movement of her hands. The waiter took out a pad of paper and pen, asking for drinks. They all put in an order. The waiter then asked if they had already chosen their meals, they all agreed, then putting in their second orders.

“I’ll be back with your drinks,” the waiter had said. Zelda put down the coaster, still shifting it across the table with an index finger.

“So, we’re going to have our first actual in-school meeting on Friday, so we need to figure out how we’re going to get the word out this week. I can get a notice in the morning announcements, but we’re going to need posters or something.”

“I can try to ask the art teacher about more posters. But I think the track meet drained everyone,” Urbosa said, propping her chin on her intertwined fingers.

“That was the club’s job right? Do you think maybe he could get an assignment in for the lower-level classes? Or... extra-credit for all of his classes?”

“Kids don’t really jump for extra-credit in art,” Urbosa chuckled. “I’ll try to figure out something with him.”

“Okay, so, that’s partially sorted... We’re also going to need to figure out a starting activity. We know we’re working on, like, the Goron lunch options, but we need an actual activity to get people interested. Is there a special holiday coming up? Something we don’t already do in school? I know winter has a lot of Rito holidays, right Revali?”

“Hm,” Revali brought a finger to his beak, “the closest major holiday is in November for the Hero of the Wind. There’s a smaller feast-based holiday in a couple weeks, but it’s less celebrated here. More of a Hebra-region thing.”

“No! That’ll be good! We can bring more awareness to it! If you could do some research on it, the food mainly, we could maybe make some and sell it during lunch.”

Revali gave a slight shrug and tilt of his head. “That’ll do. I’ll look into it.”

“That’s the type of stuff we need in the club, and when we have a Zora representative we’ll have even more options. Any events that aren’t as celebrated here are preferable. But, of course, we’ll do things for all major holidays as always,” she explained.

Suddenly, an arm extended in front of her with a glass in hand. The waiter placed down all of their drinks and handed out straws. They each gave their thanks, taking the straws and tearing off the paper. Zelda rolled hers up from top to bottom as they continued discussing, eventually unrolling it and redoing it in the opposite direction.

There was the idea of listing holidays and then giving each a general idea of how it could be fitted into school, to be added upon later. There was also the general consensus that anything further on that topic would be saved for meetings with more opinions. They reverted back to focusing on the meeting on Friday specifically. Paperwork was brought up again, which Zelda tried to dance around.

Of course she was getting it done, but when she turned in one paper, two more came with it. It felt never-ending. Usually, the teacher who ran the club would be able to take care of it, and there was less waiting on the back and forth. But their club, though technically having an adult representative, had most of the responsibility resting on Zelda’s shoulders.

And no matter how much she had on her plate already, she always took the next issue into her own hands.

She was tired of thinking about it by the time the food arrived. All she wanted to do was eat her meal in silence to regain her energy.

“Okay, but that stupid spring dance better have more Gerudo influence. I’m tired of them stealing the name and just having it be so... bland,” Urbosa said, stabbing a vegetable with her fork. “And Hylian.”

“We could do an oasis theme,” Daruk suggested.

“Yeah, but I mean, _real_ Gerudo influence. Food, decor... Every year they do that ‘Lover’s Pond’ shit. And, yeah, sure, Gerudo used it. But they always go for the least Gerudo thing they can on a real Gerudo holiday. They say it’s too ‘sexual’ or whatever bullshit.”

“I’ve already mentioned it to the office. They said we’ll get to work on it if we have club-related plans, so don’t worry about it Urbosa,” Zelda assured.

Urbosa bit the inside of her cheek as she took a sip of her drink. She gave the glass a look, contemplating something in her head. Her hand snuck into her bag and returned to the edge of the table with a metal container. With a slight twist of the cap, Revali’s hand flew to cover it.

“Excuse me! One who insists on being the driver? Do you mind?” he said, his voice the cross of a whisper and a yell.

“Oh piss off, it’s just a drop.”

“You want someone else to drive your car? Because I’m not letting you behind the wheel of a giant, metal death-box.”

“Aw, you care?” Her head fell to the side.

“I would prefer to not meet Hylia before getting out of the hell that is high school,” he snarled. “Now put that shit away.”

Just in time, the flask was back in her bag as the waiter returned to their table. He asked about desert and was only met with no’s and gestures to full stomachs. He then asked about the check for the table, which Zelda explained.

They continued talking about nothing until the payment was completed. After Zelda snuck one last sip of her water, they all made their way out of the restaurant and to the car. Back in their seats from earlier, they let the radio fill the quiet, and Zelda found herself nearly asleep by the time they reached Daruk’s house.

“Bye Daruk!” Zelda said through her sleepiness as he left the seat next to her.

“Bye guys! Thanks for dinner, Zelda!” With a wave, he crossed the short pebbled lawn and made his way into his apartment. 

Zelda always noticed how much wider the doors were to accommodate to them. Goron architecture typically had special features, there were tons of neighborhoods made especially for Goron housing. Zelda loved visiting them, Gorons were always so neighborly. If it weren’t for her tiny frame and height, she’d feel right at home.

“Is your house closest, Zelda?” Urbosa asked, tapping around the map on her phone screen. “Or is Revali closer now?”

Revali seemed too occupied with the outside of the passenger’s side window to say anything. Zelda replied with a shrug. “I might be closest still, but I really don’t know.”

“I’m-”

“Go to her house first,” Revali interrupted, his voice flat and empty.

“I was _going_ to say...” Urbosa set her phone in the console cup holder. “I’m just going to your house first, Zel. It’s easier to get to.”

Revali grumbled something at that.

Urbosa ignored him, assuming it was just another one of his fits, but Zelda knew exactly what was bothering him.

“Revali, do you want to spend the night at my house? I’ll help you with that essay, if-”

“No.”

And that was the end of the conversation.

Urbosa gave Zelda a look in the rearview mirror before driving again, as if to apologize for him. But Zelda simply shook her head and waved it off.

She returned her attention to the outside of her own window. As her mind dribbled off into being only half-awake, her focus became a slideshow of a smudged gradient of color, watching the way the sight faded from the dark colors of the dimly lit Goron district, to the bright street lamps of the busy main road, to the earthy tones of Hylian suburbia, to the dark trees surrounding her neighborhood, and finally to the familiar sight of white walls and yellow lighting. She dug a key out of her bag, squeezing between the two front seats as a yawn escaped her.

“Bye Urbosa, see you tomorrow,” Zelda said, giving her as much of a hug as she could muster from her strange position. She turned to the out-of-it Rito. “Bye Revali, good luck with your essay. Remember to look into that holiday.” She urged herself forward much further than she had for Urbosa and gave him a fuller embrace, including a squeeze, which he couldn’t muster himself to return. He only sat and accepted her gesture.

“Sav’saaba Zelda!” Urbosa cooed as the blonde jumped out of the car, nearly skipping despite her lethargy.

Zelda gave a final wave behind her before disappearing into her house. As she shut the door behind her, she realized she still had a room to clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve by the way, might as well close out the worst year with the worst thing-
> 
> No idea when I'm gonna update this next. I have a vague plan for like 9 chapters so far, plus some extra stuff here and there... so HOPEFULLY, I can start the next chapter soon and get it done... soon... I got a keyboard for my iPad on Christmas, and that has really made writing easier for me. But who knows!
> 
> Also I was never involved in school sports, so this was hard to write. I had to look up stuff... which is weird... makes me feel old even though it really, really wasn’t that long ago.   
> ALSO, I don't really have anyone to read my stuff right now, so if there are typos or something is just genuinely impossible/infuriating to read, PLEASE tell me. It's my worst fear.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING. MUAH. <3


	2. The Preparation

The air was filled with the scent of breakfast even on the second floor. Zelda was particularly focused on the possibility of the sweetness she smelled belonging to freshly made pancakes. She hooked together one of the top buttons of her cardigan and bounced down the stairs. With one peek into the kitchen, any tiredness left in her system vanished, and she skipped down the last steps to get a better look.

The chef turned to her, catching her footsteps echoing off the high ceiling of the foyer. He gave a smile as she entered the doorway. “Smell good?”

She raised her brows as if it was an insane question. “Absolutely.” The barstool skidded over the tile when she hopped onto it, its familiar noise unable to produce any discomfort in her ears. The island in front of her was covered in food: fruit, bacon, eggs... She licked her lips and caught a taste of her wildberry lip balm. “Did you get up early to make this?”

“Had early dinner last night; woke up starving,” he explained. “And since your meeting is tomorrow I figured we could celebrate. I would’ve made it, well, _tomorrow,_ but I might have to go in early.” He gestured to the pancakes on the stove. “This is to make up for it.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said, stealing a berry from its plastic container. Swiping the back of her hand over the droplet of juice sneaking over her lip, she retrieved her phone from her back pocket and tended to her notifications. One came from Revali. A link to a website about the holiday. She replied with a thumbs up and a smile, the flesh-colored hand contrasting with the dated emoticon.

“Plate,” he ordered. Zelda hopped from her seat with an empty plate in hand, then stood beside him in anticipation of the delicacy. The fluffy pancake landed onto her plate with a satisfying plop. Another one joined it, leaving the pan empty. 

“You’re not having any?” she asked.

“I may have had a smaller one before you came down here. Plus, I have toast waiting on me.”

She glanced to the other barstools at the island. Sure enough, in front of one, there was a plate already decorated in toast (a bite taken out of one) and a scoop of eggs.

“Eat it before it gets cold, hon. We have to go in twenty minutes.”

Zelda didn’t need another excuse. She slipped back into her seat and stacked some more food on her plate before digging in. After finishing off her pancakes, she got distracted by her phone, then had to quickly clean her plate before running off to grab her things.

When she got back downstairs, her father was still waiting for her by the door, keys in hand. “You need a ride?”

“Depends,” Zelda said. “Are you coming home right after school?”

“Should be. I saved all the work for tomorrow.”

She nodded, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. He opened the door for them, locking it on the way out. As she bounded to the car, he called out, “I’m letting you control the radio! Don’t put on anything insufferable.”

He hit a button on the remote hanging from his keychain. Once the car door clicked, she hopped into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll put on your favorite! Don’t worry!”

“Hylia only knows what that’s going to be,” he said to himself, his laugh escaping as a breath.

He quickly found that it was most definitely not his favorite. He had expressed his hatred for the slow, dramatic songs that Zelda blasted and sang like they weren’t a ballad of heartbreak and sadness, but Zelda _loved_ them. By the time the third song came around, he was convinced it was just the same song over and over again, or a very, very, dreadfully long one. She insisted it wasn’t, but that didn’t stop his suspicions.

He gladly kicked her out of the car and muted the radio once he was parked.

Zelda and her father entered the same door, walked the same hall, and split at the door to the front office. He gave her a hug, and wished her a successful day, then sent her off to class. Once he disappeared around the corner, Zelda knew that her father was no longer her father. He would only rejoin the family when the final bell rang seven hours later.

As Zelda made her way down the hall, she passed by a large bulletin board covered in posters, advertisements, and other school notifications. _Options for algebra tutoring, yada yada..._ Her eyes brushed over one hand-crafted poster, one for her club. It was hanging by one corner, it seemed that the pushpin had torn through the other and left it limp. Urbosa had gotten a dozen or so made with the help of her art class the day after Zelda had requested, and they hung them around the campus after school that very same Tuesday. She was a little surprised that it had only taken a day for it to be ripped, but it was more than likely an accident. It was a busy board and someone could have torn it without noticing. She fixed the paper back into place and repinned it in a stronger spot. With one final look of admiration, she continued on to class.

Math was first on the roster. It was exhausting to have so early, but Zelda chugged her way through. Homework was all correct, the lesson was easily understood, the test dates were reasonably spaced... She felt no direct distaste nor any direct love for math. She enjoyed some other subjects that included math, but math classes by themselves were nothing special.

After jotting down the homework pages due and the next quiz date, she ventured off to her second period. It was a glorified health class. It counted as her physical education class for her highschool graduation requirements, so she gladly took it. Archery was as far as she would go with athletics.

It also happened to be possibly the most boring class in the entire school. She thanked the goddesses above that her study hall period was afterward.

She joined her group of friends who had connected their desks together to form a large, rectangular table of sorts. The shift from each desk wasn’t smooth, some desks were taller or tilted up too far, the chips and gouges along the corners were death traps for sifting elbows. She sat next to Urbosa, across from her other Gerudo friend Nabooru. There was a Zora, Lulu, and a set of Hylian twins, Romani and Malon, at the opposite end from Zelda.

Study hall was usually just gossip, others copying homework, and the occasional actually needing to finish an assignment. More often the naught, it was Zelda, who had overwhelmed herself with homework and projects the night before. But she had nothing to do that day, and she preferred to just relax and socialize after the draining existence of her health class.

Toward the end of class though, she pardoned herself from the group to go visit the guidance counselor. Things to turn in and take care of—Urbosa knew Zelda’s hardships with the office well. It was a constant back and forth. Urbosa often found herself having to calm Zelda over a simple piece of paper.

Those papers were hell, but the guidance counselor was certainly not, and Zelda reiterated every time that she was in no way the one to blame.

Her name was Impa, she had known Zelda long before highschool, having been a good friend of Zelda’s father outside of work. She was an older woman, but Sheikah had much longer lifespans than the measly Hylian. She didn’t look a day over thirty.

Her office was hardly more than shelving for the millions of figurines and knick-knacks scattered about. Heroes of legend, traditional Sheikah architecture, gift shop quality models of ancient technology, the list went on. Zelda never knew how Impa could keep track of it all.

“Well if it isn’t Ms. President.”

“ _Co_ -president,” Zelda corrected. “I have more paperwork for you.”

“Zelda, if you think _you’re_ tired of paperwork, I would hate for you to have my job right now.”

“How bad is it?” She took a step into the tight space and sat in the plush chair, bending over the wooden arm to grab the forms in her bag.

“I feel like it’s all I do anymore,” Impa sighed. “I can’t wait for the new vice-principal. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to handle everything before diving back into a caffeine addiction. Look at this!” She gestured to a stack of papers, halfway through, the papers were rotated ninety degrees to keep them separate. “This is just from this morning. I might try to pass this half over to the senior guidance counselor, though. Most of it is graduation-related.”

“I wish I could do that,” Zelda said, a partial smile forced onto her lips.

“Ms. _Co_ -president, I do believe you can.”

She shook her head. “It’s better if I handle it. I can get a hold of my dad easily, and I need to be sure it’s all done correctly.”

“Don’t be afraid to, dear. You should be able to rely on them, not just because you’re friends. I won’t hesitate to accuse you of nepotism!”

Zelda set down the stapled papers on the desk, flipping her hair out of the way in time for Impa to catch her smirk.

Impa scooted a figurine out of the way to reach for the papers. She clicked the end of a pen, lightly dragging the inked end over the form and leaving a faint, jagged line under the paragraphs of information. She scribbled signatures in some blank areas before retrieving yet another form, nearly giving Zelda a heart attack.

Impa readjusted her glasses as she began filling it out. She kept her eyes locked on her writing as she asked, “So, do you have everything you need for the meeting... Oh goodness, is it already tomorrow?”

Zelda gave a soft, “Mhm,” as she nodded. “I’m already preparing for the next one, thinking of uniforms, but I know that means more paperwork...” The money, the orders, the designs... She groaned at the thought of lugging around seventy forms for each step. “Tomorrow is just the introduction. We’ve—and I mean I got my friends to do some work—got a list of some ideas for future plans. Then there’s the menu stuff we’re working on, there’s a Rito holiday we’re looking into for sometime soon, and we’re still waiting on a Zora co-president. Urbosa’s been eager to talk about the dance in spring and I know that’s going to be back and forth with the office, so I- _we_ might as well get done what we can now. And fundraising... for uniforms... which I still need to work on...” Zelda mumbled.

“Seems like you’ve got a lot in your hands, dear.” Impa had looked up at her at some point, Zelda didn’t know when, also not knowing when her own gaze had fallen to her nails picking at the hem of her cardigan. “Maybe we need to have the work split up a little more, hm? Doesn’t Urbosa do art? Can’t you let her work on the uniforms?”

“But, she’s got her art club and sword fighting... I don’t want to-”

“And you have... what was it? Robotics and archery? Weren’t you in something else, too?”

“Well, yeah, and history. But it’s barely a club, we don’t do much. And I-”

“Zelda.”

“I’ve already finished most of them! I might as well-”

“ _Zelda,_ ” Impa snapped. “Let Urbosa finish it, let Revali handle the holiday, and let Daruk handle the menu. You can prepare what you’re going to say tomorrow, okay?”

Zelda’s hands burrowed under her thighs. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. I’ll be attending the meeting, so I’m eager to hear what you have to say. I know this means a lot to you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, dear. Chin up!” Impa exclaimed. “Now, the bell is about to ring, so why don’t you go take these up to the office—front desk, you know already—and go take this to your dad so he can sign off on it. That’s all the paperwork you have to handle for now.”

Zelda nodded again, drawing a deep breath as she took the delivery. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good rest of your day, Zelda!”

“You too!” she said. She pulled her bag over her shoulder, exhaling a buildup of anxiety out of her system, then stepping out of the office. Back in the bland hallway once again, she tugged at her sleeves and set off.

She walked down to the end of the hall, near the front entrance, and turned into the separate office area. A Zora sat behind the front desk, a phone lodged between her shoulder and ear, typing away on a computer as she spoke to the parent on the other line. She glanced at Zelda, holding up a finger briefly before taking the phone and switching it to her other shoulder.

Zelda leaned back away from the desk to see her father’s door open. She excused herself from the Zora’s presence, then speed walked down the hall to peek inside. As she approached, she could hear her father talking, and she prayed that he wasn’t also occupied with a lengthy phone call.

Her father caught her spying immediately, pausing his conversation to see her awkwardly step into the doorway. Two Gorons sat in front of him. Students. _Probably in trouble for something._ She could always tell since she, of course, knew the principal better than any other student did. His facial expression, subtle as it may have been, told the whole story.

“Zelda?”

“Sorry,” she said, making a quick glance to grab the correct paper in her collection. “Impa said to give this to you.”

“ _Ms._ Impa,” he murmured as he took it.

“Ms. Impa,” she repeated. The Gorons were staring at her. She squirmed in place.

“For the club?” he asked, skimming through the notes.

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, thank you. I’ll take care of this later.”

She slipped out as quickly as she could after her goodbye. Once through the doorway, she heard the bell ring in the distance.

The Zora near the front had gone silent. And as Zelda returned, she saw her putting down the phone. Zelda caught her attention once again. There was a concise explanation of what the form was, the Zora understood, she took the paper, and Zelda joined the rest of the students back in the main hallway. 

The cafeteria was across the school and she was in no rush for lunch. By the time she was close, most of the students had disappeared, save for two directly ahead of her. They were approaching the fork in the road where she would have to turn. After a quick observation: the Hylian boy having a low ponytail, the Zora a warm shade of red, Zelda realized they were the ones from the meet.

She then suddenly remembered she promised him a congratulations, and her an invite to the meeting. She sped up her pace to catch up to them.

“Hey!” Zelda greeted, awkwardly cutting them off. She murmured a quick apology. “Um, you’re Mipha, right?”

“Yes,” the Zora spoke in a dainty, trembling voice. _Clearly a bit quiet,_ not the best trait for a co-president. Nonetheless, Zelda continued, noticing the wide pair of blue eyes staring at her to her left.

“We’re starting a multicultural club here, we get representatives from each race here and try to include everyone’s cultures, holidays, things like that. I’m the, uh, Hylian representative, but right now we’re looking for a Zora co-president. If you’re interested—you don’t have to run, if that’s not your thing—we’re having a meeting on Friday. Tomorrow, I mean.” She made a quick side glance to the boy... still staring.

“Oh, I’ll try to make it, then.” Despite the unsure sound in her voice, she still seemed genuine. “A- After school? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, after school... in the courtyard.” Zelda gestured in the general direction. She could no longer keep her eyes off of the pair piercing holes through her. “You can come too, if you’d like.”

He was silent. Fortunately, she saw him blink, which put her slightly at ease from being unable to catch him doing it previously. She was almost sure he nodded, but it may have just been her imagination. There was a deafeningly long silence.

“Um, you were at that track meet?” Zelda broke the tension as best she could, his lack of responses making it difficult. “I saw you run... Uh... You were really good! Congratulations on your win.”

A brief, thankful smile. He wasn’t a robot, that was nice to know, _though admittedly less impressive_.

“Anyway,” she continued before another silence could overcome them, “nice meeting you. Hope you can make it! Thanks for your time, either way.”

Mipha gave an honest smile. “Nice meeting you too.”

Zelda waved to the both of them before slipping out of the way. _Hylia, that was painful._ Mipha seemed nice enough, but, Goddesses above, that boy would’ve stared her head off if he could. _Whatever_ , she had said her congratulations, that was all she had wanted to say to him. It was over and done with. Lunchtime would take her mind off of the conversation.

She appreciated more than anything that her three favorite subjects were right in a row. It kept her focus locked for three hours straight; she found herself thinking the most during those uninterrupted classes. They built off of each other in her brain, helping her excel even further than she would normally.

Science was first. She had physics that year, chemistry the year before. One teacher taught both of them in their most advanced forms, Dr. Purah. Zelda got along with her mainly because of the fact her sister was Impa. Purah had heard all about Zelda and instantly treated her as one of her favorites. She treated Purah likewise.

Next on the list was history. She didn’t have any specific bond with the teacher, but Zelda had always been intrigued by Hyrule’s history and its legends of heroes across time. The rise of evil, the fall of it—and every single time, Hyrule rose again. She only wished she could’ve seen it in action. _Maybe not deal with the trauma..._ But the textbooks only went so far. There were so many mysteries left to uncover, so many pieces of legends lost to time, so many heroes buried underneath the layers of modern day Hyrule. She wanted to know it all and have it stored in her mind like every legend was just another fun fact she’d read on a cereal box.

The final of the trinity was robotics.

The sound of multiple decades old rock music could be heard several doors away from the speaker it emitted from. As Zelda passed by the doors of other classrooms, every single teacher looked as if they were just moments away from jumping out of their windows. They had nothing against the one blasting the music, they didn’t even hate the music, but they all (including Zelda) knew that if it had happened between every single class period on every single school day so far, there was no intention of stopping. However, they were not opposed to the volume being lowered.

“Well then what’s the point of the music?” he’d said, only to be met with a sweeping gesture meaning, “Exactly.”

He never took the hint. Or, at least, he’d never acted on it. Zelda was lucky enough to not mind. It was one of her favorite things to hear during the day, because it always meant her absolute favorite class was soon to follow.

“Mornin’, Zelda!” he shouted over the music. He was writing instructions on the board as she arrived.

“Good morning!” she greeted back. Before stepping in, she noticed the nametag under the room number had slid out of place. She tapped the fancifully written “Dr. Robbie” back into place. “What song are you playing?”

“An oldie!” He flashed a wide grin, holding up a rock n’ roll sign with his hand.

“As always.”

He moved the marker between his fingers to avoid leaving ink on his laptop as he turned down the volume. “Of course! Hey, come here. I’ve gotta show you something before class starts.” He bit down on the cap at the end of the marker, pulling it off and replacing it on the felt end with a loud click. He abandoned his work at the board to instead dig for something behind his desk. With a grunt, Robbie retrieved a rectangular, tablet-sized object before setting it cautiously on the desk, moving his hands away from it with flair, like he’d balanced a perfect house of cards.

She leaned over the mugs filled with pens to see. It was matte black, a strange handle carved out of one end, some raised texture along its edges. Robbie spoke again, “You know what this baby is?”

“A tablet?” she guessed, not letting her eyes off of it.

“Even better! You’re a history buff, right? Know about the Hero of the Wild?”

“Mhm!” her eyes dialated at the sound of it.

“This is one of the work-in-progress replications of one of the most prominent ancient pieces of technology,” he drawled, “the _Sheikah Slate._ ” She was too intrigued to speak. Her eyes widened, jaw dropped, hands twitched—he chuckled at the sight of it. “Go on,” he encouraged.

Finally, her vocal cords cooperated, but only enough for her to gasp as she picked the model up. “Wow...”

“Uh huh, 3-D printed it myself! Got a blueprint off of some of my buddies in the industry. You know them, I’ve told you about their Guardian research. I was gonna bring it to our next club meeting, but I thought you’d need to see it as soon as I got my hands on it. Careful with it, though. That printing stuff is too expensive for how breakable it is.”

The screen wasn’t actually a screen, just a flat area of the same plastic, the rest of the surface having a roughness in comparison. Feeling a design of some sort on the back, she flipped the model over. The traditional mark of the Sheikah was plastered over it, irregularly smooth, just as the screen was. It was clear there was no direction on what it had been made of.

“You know,” Robbie said, faltering over his next words, “I... I can still squeeze you into one of my fourth-level classes. It’s not too late.”

Zelda bit the skin on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to discuss this for the fortieth time. This was the one class she was always certain of, no matter what. She wasn’t rushing through it for credits, she wasn’t rushing through it for grades, she wasn’t rushing through it for early experience. She wanted this. Every second of it. 

“I’d rather space out these classes. I’ll have one every year,” she insisted past the lump in her throat.

“I’m positive you’d thrive in a higher-up environment. We do a lotta club stuff, you know, getting to mess with the real deal... But I’m sure you’ve got enough stuff to worry about already.”

Her exhale shook as it pushed through her. “I get that a lot.”

“Then it must mean something. Okay, I’ve gotta start class! Go take a seat while I put this back.”

“I can’t hold it forever and ever?” she asked, her tone softening as she clutched the model to her chest.

“Zelda, if I had another, I’d let you swaddle that one and push it around in a stroller... But I only got one, so hand it over.”

She reluctantly passed it to him, trying her hardest to show her disappointment despite the smile on her face. As he returned it to its hiding place, she took a seat at one of the slate tables that resided in every science classroom. She flicked the laminated name card that clung onto the table by a piece of tape, seemingly on its last leg. Her and her partner’s name sat beside each other on the sixth line. They weren’t friends, but she had nothing against them. Although, she couldn’t help but wish she had a partner as enthusiastic about the topic as she was.

The music eventually died down and Robbie approached the board, now with the fully-written instructions on it. He flipped the marker in his hand. The vibrant red cap made contact with the board as he pointed to the lesson. Lessons came in as worksheets, mapping out circuits, the occasional coding by hand, but never handling any robots, which most of the students had joined the class for. He was still an excellent teacher, one of the favorites of students due to his extroverted nature. His music taste, maybe a little dated, but he knew how to make a class fun, despite only being able to offer paper as work. She enjoyed the worksheets, though. Anything to give her more understanding about the topic, she took it without hesitation, even if it was yet another piece of paper to carry around.

As she stared at the numbers and diagram in front of her, the back of her mind still occupied with the model packed up just a few measly feet away. The coarse texture lingered in her fingertips, even as she twiddled her pencil back and forth. She placed the lead in the workspace area, but it refused to move. She lightened the pressure and scraped lightly over the emptiness. _The Sheikah Slate,_ it echoed in her mind. Her eyes drifted away from her paper, across the table, down to the floor, up the wall, and stopped at the clock. Fifteen minutes left. She shook out of her longing and scribbled away numbers on her paper.

The last period of the day was English. It was an advanced class, but possibly the most bland one available at school. It being directly after Robbie and his pandemonium of a class didn’t help. There were essays every so often, but other than that, just the same routine of reading from a textbook and answering questions. As if it weren’t bad enough, the teacher insisted on reading it every single time, her slow voice lulling everyone to sleep as the school day drew to a close.

They were seated in alphabetical order on the first day, but most had shifted over a seat or two, and the teacher didn’t seem to care (or, perhaps, failed to notice). But Zelda stayed in her assigned seat, having none of her closer friends in class with her anyway. She hated the back of the room, but it was much better at hiding how bored she got, and if she ever decided to start working on something else. 

Class started the same everyday. As Zelda walked in, she received a textbook that the teacher for some reason hoarded by her desk, then took her seat and waited for the reading to begin. Pages were on the board, wiped as soon as the bell rang. If someone didn’t flip to the page beforehand, they were screwed until they asked someone who had. No one knew why she wiped the board, but there wasn’t so much as a date on it. It was always blank, always clean. Just like every single blank, white wall of the classroom.

The model finally escaped her mind, and Zelda could finally focus on the passage as the teacher read. She prepared herself for another boring class, but something actually happened after flipping the first page.

In the middle of the paragraph, there was a knock at the door. The student nearest to it stood up, but the teacher held out a hand for them to stop. There was the prompt sound of the door being unlocked, and it opened to a faculty member, a blonde boy at their side.

The one from the track meet again.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the staff member said before directing her words to the teacher. “This is Link. He’s being transferred into your class. Could you sign his schedule?”

_Link._

He shuffled up to the teacher’s desk and handed her his yellow-colored schedule. It was funny how obvious it was that he hated the class staring at him, despite his intense, uncomfortable staring earlier. The teacher scribbled a signature, then spun around to grab one of the textbooks and hand it to him. She motioned to the desks ahead of her for Link to find a seat. Lucky Zelda: the only open seat was the one ahead of her... She was a little disappointed.

“His name will be in your roster by next week,” the faculty member noted.

The teacher gave her thanks as the faculty member left. Link took a seat, shaking the whole row of desks as he essentially collapsed in it. He fiddled with the corner of the textbook, picking at the loosening cover. With a deep breath, he sunk in his seat to the point where Zelda wondered how he hadn’t broken his spine. He pulled the book over the edge of the desk, close to his face. She assumed to hide in it. He let the pages fall open, flipping through them with no direction of which page they were on as the teacher immediately began to continue the lesson.

She was only supposed to congratulate him on the track meet, and now she found herself with an option of being helpful and telling him what page they were on. No big deal. Worst case scenario, he suddenly stared at her and refused to turn around for the rest of the class. _But that was too weird._ He wouldn’t be that socially clueless... _right?_

Zelda leaned forward and whispered, “Page sixty-seven. Second paragraph.”

He jumped the slightest bit, not enough to shake the desks again, thankfully. Without a word, or even a glance back, he flipped the page and found the sentence.

That was fine. Good, actually. He hadn’t made an attempt to stare at her again.

Class passed by normally, the teacher continued reading, she explained some things now and again. Zelda was ready for the same set of short-response questions that followed every lesson in the textbook. It was an easy ritual and Zelda never struggled. But as they flipped to the final page, Zelda got to see the questions on the next page.

It wasn’t questions. It was a partnered activity.

_Because of course it was._

She physically felt Link tense up ahead of her as the teacher mentioned it. She almost felt bad for him. Almost. She still was a little scared of him— _but that was mean!_ Just because he was a little awkward, she didn’t like him? That was unlike her.

“Turn to the person behind you and complete it before the end of class. Hand it in on your way out. Make sure to put both names on your paper,” the teacher said.

Link didn’t turn. The person ahead of him was already partnered up, what was he waiting for? Zelda finally decided to tap his shoulder.

“I think we’re partners,” she said in the least patronizing way possible.

Link’s shoulders shot up as he cringed and slowly turned himself around. Zelda’s smile vanished. _Did he not like her?_ Was he one of those people that wanted to be alone and absolutely detested anyone he had to interact with? That wasn’t possible, he had Mipha. He seemed normal around her. Maybe it was a weird facade. She wouldn’t put it past him. _No_ , she scolded herself, _stop judging him!_

She jotted down her name on the paper. When she looked up she caught him looking over her hand to see it. Hesitantly, she slid the paper an inch toward him, even offering her pencil for him to add his name. His hand moved forward a bit for her pencil, stopped in mid air, and then moved for it again. He took it by the eraser, as far away from her hand as he could get, and then wrote his name under hers. His arm had to bend strangely over the desk as a leftie. It may have been just a right-handed thing, but she always noticed when someone was left-handed. She wondered why people had dominant hands. She made a mental note to research it later.

He put her pencil on the desk and slid the paper back over. With that, his hands vanished to his hoodie pocket, like that was all the work he was willing to do. Honestly, Zelda preferred it that way. Less talking. More working. She already knew what she wanted to write anyway. Still, she asked, “Would it be okay if I did it myself?”

He nodded, small but rapid motions. He avoided her eyes, instead turning away from her and staring off into space to her left. _Perfect!_ No staring. No talking. She was starting to appreciate having that empty seat ahead of her.

After writing her first few sentences, she looked up to the top of the page to add the title and date before she could forget. She noticed he had written his name... but just his first name. Zelda Gaepora, Link _._ And the whole essay was in her writing. She worried if their teacher would deduct points for the obvious lack of collaboration.

Once she reached the final sentence, she noticed his elbow on her desk and his tight grip on the side of his chair. His leg was bouncing, too.

She added the last few words and dotted it off with a period. She corrected her posture, realizing how huddled over the paper she had been. Once more, she held out her pencil.

“She might be unhappy if you don’t write your full name.” That was truthful. Although, her first reason was simply that she wanted to know his last name. _Why?_ She had no idea. “You can read over it and add something, if you want.”

He shook his head in the same way he had nodded before, taking the pencil the same way, and setting it on the table the same way once he was done.

She opened her mouth to try to make conversation with him, maybe calm him the slightest bit, but was quickly interrupted by the bell ringing.

He stood, grabbed his bag, and sped out the door.

And Zelda was alone.

She shook her head to regain herself from how quickly it had happened, then put away her pencil, collected her textbook and the one he had left behind, and walked to the teacher’s desk to turn in the work. After putting the textbooks back as well, she left as she always did.

_Link Farosh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote most of this pretty quickly, I got stuck on like 2 scenes, made some YouTube videos to procrastinate, and just struggled for a week until I just gave up. But it's done! And I've already started chapter 3, and 4, AND 5, so hey, look at me go.
> 
> I've been listening to Taylor Swift's Folklore and Evermore while writing and I feel like it's Zelda's vibe. I don't know why. And when I listen to Elton John (Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, specifically) I think of Link. Also no idea why.
> 
> ANYWAY, the next few chapters should be interesting. 3 is still somewhat Zelda-centric. I'm struggling with Link's personality because all of the fics I keep up with don't portray Link the same, and not the way I want either, so I'm just... kinda... wondering how to write him. LOL
> 
> Hopefully I can get these chapters out a bit quicker, editing is just so tiring... Even though I do it constantly with everything I've ever written.


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